


Superficial similarities

by Opium_Poppy



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU, DCU (Comics), Green Arrow - All Media Types
Genre: Dom Oliver Queen, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Smut, Versatile Bruce Wayne, Versatile Oliver Queen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-01
Updated: 2020-03-04
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:48:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22048882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Opium_Poppy/pseuds/Opium_Poppy
Summary: A fluke of romance between rich and powerful.
Relationships: Oliver Queen/Bruce Wayne
Comments: 2
Kudos: 39





	1. Chapter 1

They shared superficial similarities. Both rich, mature, handsome. Both the center of attention all the time, both famous for trying to do right in a world that only tolerates goodness for appearances, rather than from the heart. Both equally disinterested in that world.

  
This is actually how they met – on one of Queen Consolidated charity galas. It promised to be as boring as they get, with exquisite food and sophisticated conversation, which in reality are synonyms to expensive and bland, but this time was different. Bruce remembered being taken aback by the brash assault of compliments that barely bordered propriety. He even blushed once, which hasn’t happened in… well, forever. Resisting the initial urge to brush off the insufferable flirt, he carefully, but firmly steered the conversation somewhere more socially acceptable. Turned out, there's more to Oliver Queen than meets the eye. They talked for hours, even after the guests started leaving, well into the night. The suns first rays caught Bruce Wayne leaning on the parapet with an empty glass in his hand and Oliver Queen sitting on it next to him, dangling a half-empty bottle.

  
By morning, they knew they shared more than background. Both orphaned, weighed down by their family legacy, with tons of unresolved issues. Both spent years away from home and came back to save it. Men found understanding and acceptance in each other’s company, and it was new, and unexpected.

  
Bruce and Oliver started texting the next day. Each one, with no small degree of surprise, found himself checking email before getting out of bed and being sorely disappointed when the screen read “No new messages”. Work involved a number of business meetings, which Oliver turned into dates the second the official part was done. Tired of letting Queen take initiative, Bruce showed up to what was supposed to be their final deal with a giant bouquet of flowers and watched Oliver lose his grin for the first time since they’ve started talking. Of course they quickly turned it into a joke for publicity reasons, but the relationship started snowballing after that.

  
The next big party, this time in Gotham, Oliver wouldn't shut up about the drugs in the Glades and police reform, which bored most guests, but Bruce could not takes his eyes and ears off him. There and then he realized Oliver has this kindness, this powerful brand of empathy that was almost hypnotic. When Ollie talked about something he was passionate about he radiated warmth, but Bruce could feel that warmth can turn into a searing fury and burn everyone in it's way. Bruce was unsure which one made him feel so unseasonably warm. He doubted his attraction, argued with himself that he shouldn't act on it, but the longer he waited, the more probable it was that some broad would make off with Mr. Queen before he had the chance to make a decision. He managed to lure him away from the crowd and, at first, started with a cheesy line, stumbled midway through, blushed again and then just went for the kiss. Oliver returned it. Trained ear of both vigilantes caught a camera sound someone forgot to muffle, but raising fuss would only attract more attention, so they chose to just get out. In the car ride with Alfred, each feigned confidence and interest in a conversation about nothing.

  
Later night Bruce barely managed to contain surprise, seeing all of Ollie's scars. The man did spend five years on an island, or so the story goes, he thought, but these are battle scars. He had his fail share too and could only wonder what will his lover think of it. Ever so slowly, Oliver’s careful lips examined each scar they could reach. His eager tongue taunted, titillated, tantalized - all that was left to do was to grasp the sheets and moan. In time, moaning turned into practically screaming, accentuated by loud thuds and rhythmical creaking of the old bed. It was a new feeling – a body, that could match your own in its limits, but at the time, they agreed to test rather than push them. Thudding sounds culminated with a double groan and stopped, only to start anew in half an hour or so, before finally breaking down with dawn.

  
The morning after has been awkward.

  
Oliver woke up in stranger’s beds before, but it was usually he who snuck out. This time, Bruce has completely exhausted him. Archer woke up to and empty bed and Bruce’s butler bringing in the tray.

  
“Good morning, Master Queen,” Alfred greeted him. “Time to rise and shine, it’s two o’clock, in case you were wondering. Master Bruce’s responsibilities drew him away early, as I’m sure you understand. Toast and eggs for breakfast, this bedroom has a shower right there. Can I help you with anything else?”

  
“No, thank you.” Oliver replied, hesitant to get out from under the sheets, because he was in Adams’s costume. “On second thought, I’d appreciate a cab. I think my car is still near the hotel.”

  
“Of course. Is there anything I should relay to Master Bruce when he returns?”

  
“Er… No?..” Ollie was a little surprised at the question. “I’ll call him myself once I get to Star City.”

That same day tabloids almost blew up. They were not mistaken when they heard the camera sound, and someone leaked that to the press, or, perhaps, that someone was the press. In the beginning, reporters wouldn’t let either of them take a breath without being asked for an interview, but, despite Bruce’s worries, it only took three or so days to almost completely blow over. Frankly speaking, finding Oliver Queen in somebody’s bed ceased to be newsworthy even before his disappearance, and even the fact that this time it was a man barely surprised anyone. Gotham, in its turn, had major problems to deal with and couldn’t care less about its prodigal son’s eccentricities. Of course, the sensational photo earned both of them a few side looks, and may have cost them a bunch of Christmas party invitations, but nothing earth-shattering.

  
For men with their kind of resources, distance was a nuisance. They started spending more and more time with each other. In the first few weeks Bruce and Oliver barely left the bed, so taken up they were.

“Be honest with me here,” Bruce once asked, gently moving his thumb above Ollie’s lips, collecting thick white fluid caught up in the stubble. “This is the longest relationship you’ve ever had, isn’t it?”

Ollie took Bruce’s thumb in his mouth and softly sucked on it.

“This is the longest monogamous relationship I’ve ever had,” he said after some thought. “Be proud.”

“Should I also be worried?” Bruce reached down, picked him up and kissed him. The ease with which he was able to do that sent shivers down archer’s spine. Oliver didn’t answer, but pressed himself so tightly against his lover, their bodies could’ve flatten metal put in between.

“You should be,” Oliver finally said, with a mischievous spark in his eyes. “Because I just got an idea.”

In time, Bruce learned to be slightly concerned each time that spark appeared. Most of Mr. Queen’s ideas involved having sex in a weird, risky or unconventional way or place. Bruce was lucky when that was at home, although an antique hand-drawn map of Star City that lays beneath the glass in the living room wouldn’t call it lucky if it could speak. What’s worse, Oliver’s favorite joke for the next month was about “taking him right up the main street”, which was funny the first time and annoying all the next. Once Alfred almost caught him blowing Ollie in front of the fireplace and Bruce was so mortified he finally asked his lover to cool it down. He got back at him for it by casually “dropping by” Queen Consolidated and convincing CEO to give him a handjob. The view of Star City, risk of getting caught and that mischievous spark made the trip worth it. Not to mention his tongue cleaning up the mess his hands made. That day haunted Bruce’s fantasies for years. Oliver’s too, he imagined.


	2. A broken door, a broken wall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some things must eventually come to light.

For once, all was calm and well for both vigilantes. Their nightlife took its fair share, but they could and did manage to date. Surely, as the relationship entered a steadier state, they spent less time together, but as Bruce liked to put it, “we are neither of us so pathetic as to need to cling constantly to another’s belt”. Oliver preferred a shorter phrasing. Besides, the more time they spent apart, the more exiting the meeting were. The distance was not that much of a barrier as well; Gotham and Star City were not that far away so a sport car could not make the trip in several hours.

Bruce enjoyed driving. Not the speed, of which he had his fill, he just enjoyed the road. They even made it a thing – Wayne would drive to Star, pick Ollie up, they would find the trashiest juke joint, stock up on fast food and share a ride back to Gotham, listening to music, laughing, eating and talking. This kind of date would take all day, but they knew they wouldn’t be disturbed by journalists or business. Some of their best and felt-out talks happened on that road.

They felt they could share everything with each other, and they did. Memories, spicy stories, opinions on things raging from the latest designer shoes collection to a new novel or a political climate. Even so, there was one subject they avoided.

Oliver wanted to ask where Bruce got his scars and where new bruises kept coming from, but that would mean answering about his own and he hated to lie. That one secret felt like a pane of glass between them; yes, it was the only secret Ollie kept, but it was huge. And keeping this big secret from his lover meant also keeping a few dozen smaller ones that came with it, and somehow, he felt dirty. Like he was cheating, but worse, because he cheated in the relationships before, but this was new, a whole level below.

Bruce could read people very well. More importantly, he knew Oliver. He fell in lust and then in love with his kindness and empathy. He knew Ollie would understand. He knew he would support him. He knew his secret would be safe. Still he couldn’t bring himself to be out with it. Even Alfred, who was overly cautious all the time, suggested that might be a good idea. Bruce would not budge.

That pane of glass nearly ended it all. They were still discovering things about each other, and eventually all questions and conversations began to hit a wall. Hidden behind those masks was a significant part of them and there was no way to grow closer without bringing those parts to light. The feeling of warmth and sincerity began to thin. They panicked, doubted and eventually slipped.

To be honest, it was Miklos Minotaur who, albeit unwittingly, made it possible. He was a minor crime lord who operated between Gotham and Star City, built his lair to resemble a mythical labyrinth and used trained animals as an entourage.

After weeks of trying, Batman finally managed to track his base. Funnily enough, it was Oliver who first introduced them during one of his parties. Bruce jumped at the opportunity to hack a man’s phone, do some digging, some listening, some tracking, and in three days – voila! Normally, Batman wouldn’t operate outside Gotham, but this was too rare an opportunity to pass.

He heard Star City had it’s own guardian, but Bruce never trusted people he did not know. He had no idea how to contact him and frankly, didn’t really want to. The infamous Green Arrow did not adhere to the same code of honor Bruce did: there were confirmed kills.

Bruce came to Star as he usually would and gave Oliver a surprise visit to the office. He felt himself melting away on the spot when his lover’s face lit up. Queen got up from the sturdy oaken table to greet him formally, and then sat on top of it, pulling Bruce closer. He hesitated for a moment, wondering, where to begin, then slowly wrapped his legs around his lover’s waist (as much as the suite allowed it), then proceeded to make out for solid twenty minutes before finally letting go. He even bit Bruce’s lip bloody on accident.

“Ouch,” he reacted.

“You’ll live,” Oliver dismissed him, straightening up his suite coat. “What brings you to Star City?”

“Eh, a bit of business, a bit of pleasure. I have a meeting downtown tonight, but tomorrow is free. What do you think about a private movie night? I should be able to arrange that.”

“Please don’t. I’ve had to attend a movie night at Mr. Rizzo’s mansion a few nights ago, and if I see one more screen I’ll burst into flames. When I agreed to it, I didn’t know the old dustfart meant the _entire_ night of movies. Anyway, there’s a new restaurant opening near Alexandria Arms hotel, we could go there.”

“Oh, it’s the hotel I’m staying at!”

“You’re–staying–at–the–hotel?” Oliver seemed insulted. “You realize I have rooms at home?”

“I know, Ollie, and I’ll move there as soon as I’m done. The people I’m supposed to meet are staying there too. You’re welcome to join me after.”

“No thanks,” Ollie declined after a moment. “I have things to sort out; I’ll see you home tomorrow morning.”

Now that this base was covered, Bruce got back into his car and drove to the building he was going to breach into. His research said it was a factory, now refitted. Bruce cased security, took note of a few cameras and tried to tap into comm channel, but couldn’t get close enough.

Batman came back after dark, found a spot on the roof of a nearest building and assessed the situation. The way inside the base was fairly straightforward, he’d have to enter through the window in the production line hall to avoid cameras and stealthily make his way through. Miklos’s psych profile suggested he would have rebuilt the interior of the building to resemble a labyrinth; doubtful he’d raise new walls, but he could’ve stacked a bunch of heavy crates in similar manner. Batman also checked and re-checked tranquilizer gun – there were supposed to be animals guarding the man.

Batman took out the patrolling guard, cut the window and broke inside. Something was wrong: he was sure he didn’t trip any alarms, but the Minotaur’s men were visibly distressed. Using the unconscious guard’s comm, he discovered that several patrols did not respond to regular hails. That didn’t sound right – he only took out one. He wasn’t working alone.

The unknowing partner made his job both easier and harder: on one hand, thugs that new someone was here too were more alert and harder to sneak past, Bats had to fight his way out of situations he would normally avoid; on the other hand, there were far fewer of them, now that some went to investigate missing patrols.

Halfway through to the main office where he thought Miklos would be Batman noticed the first beasts – two large jaguars, both asleep with the tranquilizer darts, their dark green fletching bright against yellow fur. This must be The Green Arrow, although a color of the darts is certainly not enough for this conclusion. But if it is, the mission can be far more interesting then he initially thought. Damn it.

As he made his way further into the base, he noticed himself rushing, trying to get to the mark faster. The new man provided a challenge. Bruce scolded himself for the emotions he deemed immature while at work, but could not help it. He wanted to get there first.

There wasn’t a sign of the man in the next several foundries, nor did he hear sounds of fighting, but he found several unconscious bodies and an arrow with some sort of reservoir attached. There was a noticeable smell of sour apples – sleeping gas. _Interesting_ , he thought, _looks like Green Arrow prefers stealth to brawn too. I have to admit, he might be as good as I am at it. Does that mean we have the same training?_

Miklos’s office was overlooking the large foundry. The maze of crates looked confusing, but there was no way to place any on top of the production line. Following it would offer the most direct route. It is also the most exposed, there was no way to go unnoticed through there.

Bruce used one of his ultrasonic lures to create a distraction. Normally, it would draw bats, but most animals could hear in high-range frequencies. A couple of mountain lions, a large wolf and a Doberman rushed to the mark, several thugs followed. A smoke screen and a couple of well-placed punches took care of the rest. He hoped his unknowing partner would be distracted by few that remained.

He shot his grapple gun and swung the remaining distance, effectively landing right in front of the door. There’s no way Miklos is unaware of his – or, rather, their – presence. He’s likely pointing a gun right at the door.

“I wouldn’t do that, if I were you,” said a mocking voice. There’s was some sort of modulator device, not unlike what Batman himself used, but still, the voice sounded uncannily familiar.

“Don’t presume to know what I’m doing, Robin Hood,” retorted Batman.

The place was dimly lit and he couldn’t make out a lot about this man. Tall and broad-shouldered, wrapped tightly in moss-colored leather. _Quite fetching, actually,_ he thought, trying to pick out more details. Hood covered face and created enough shade for the rest to be unrecognizable; bow of a curious design, most probably unique; several blades, including poorly hidden throwing ones – but not stars; build that suggests reliance on acrobatics, but that’s not new.

“You were about to kick the door in and hope the armor would hold long enough under fire for you to reach him,” the tone became insufferable, especially considering Green Arrow was absolutely right.

“Go critique your own tactics. Unless you have anything to add, I suggest you leave.”

“Step back,” commanded the archer drawing an arrow. When it hit the door, Batman was already away. Short beep signaled activation, followed by a loud “boom” and a screen of smoke. The heavy wooden door cracked and shattered, pieced flying in every direction. Green Arrow was standing too far, but Bruce had to duck to avoid the hit.

Not wanting to give Miklos time to collect himself, Batman rushed in. The smoke gave him a few seconds of advantage, but they weren’t needed: crime lord lied on the ground, unconscious, bleeding from his head, but alive: apparently, explosion worked better than they hoped. Bruce kicked the gun from his hand and kneeled, tying him up. The piece of wood that knocked the man out was laying near.

“Waste of effort,” said the voice behind him, followed by an unmistakable sound of a bowstring. He only had a moment to react. Catching arrows was part of his training, but he almost missed.

“I do not kill,” he warned, menacingly.

“And in Gotham that would matter. Here, we entertain my preferences,” responded Green Arrow in kind. “He had failed this city.”

This time, archer put two arrows onto the nocking point. Wayne realized he’d not be able to stop both of them.

“He’s unconscious and unarmed. Let’s call the police and get out.”

“You don’t know Star City police very well,” there was bitterness in Arrow’s voice, but he released some tension in the shoulders. A bit of relief, Batman really did not want to fight him. “We haven’t caught him in the act, the warehouse doesn’t belong to him directly, anything we find here is circumstantial evidence at best. A good lawyer and a better bribe will have him free before tomorrow. Do you even know what he’s involved in? Drugs and weapons are nothing, this dirt bag sells people. Let me end it.”

He didn’t know it, actually. Bruce had to concentrate for a moment to center and calm the burning feeling in his chest.

“Then let’s make sure they can’t. Can I show you something?”

“Slowly. I can shoot these faster than you can blink.”

“I know,” Batman dropped the arrow, slowly reached into the utility belt and produced a tiny plastic bag of greenish powder. “This is Green Light. A mutagen used to create unstable metahumans, as illegal as it is dangerous. Not a real thing, of course, that’s barely enough for a toddler and half of it is plastic dust, but enough to show on chemical analysis. Tip off A.R.G.U.S. and there’s no way they can bury it.”

Arrow let out an approving harrumph, the kind Oliver made when he was extremely pleased, and put the bow down.

“Not very heroic, eh?”

“We do what we can to step toward what is right. That must count for something. I’ll plant it, you send the message.”

“Make sure you get his fingertips.”

“This is not my first time,” Batman resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

It was maybe a minute after they were done when police sirens sounded in the distance. They sure come fast when given proper kick. By that time the smoke has cleared and a room lit to draw attention.

“We should leave,” Batman caught himself on being unusually chatty. Green Arrow did not move, staring at face, then reached towards his neck, turning off the voice modulator.

“Bruce?” he asked, astonished. The voice was now painfully familiar. “Hey, Bruce, I left that bite.”

“No,” Batman turned away, but the pieces started falling together for both of them. How could he be this blind?! “I’m Batman.”

“Bruce, what the fuck?”


	3. Coming to light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Every secret has to come to light some time. Even vigilaties know that.

“You would have killed him,” Bruce stated, his face betraying no emotion.  
They were back at Ollie’s manor, finally having of the most difficult conversations of their lives so far. Archer knew the city better; he got there first and had a moment to think about all of this. The thought of their situation was overwhelming; Oliver couldn’t make out the difference between what he felt and what he thought he was supposed to, so he just tried to keep the dialogue up and see where it led.  
“I still think I should have,” he responded, staring somewhere above Bruce’s shoulder. “Your little stunt might get him behind bars, but I won’t bring back the people Miklos sold.”  
He spat the last word out, disgusted by how casually it sounded. Should’ve said “trafficked”, he thought.  
“Oh, and the arrow in the head would have?” Batman wouldn’t be confused by word play. “You don’t think that.”  
Ollie narrowed his eyes maliciously. “Really? If you’re such an expert on what I think, maybe you should have warned me before we went in, Mister I’m-staying-at-the-hotel!”  
Bruce paused and took a deep breath. Oliver could feel his urge to slam the door in his face and even started to feel a little ashamed for his outburst, but instead the man walked up to him, sat right next, took Oliver’s hands and said:  
“I’m sorry, I’m getting distracted. It’s difficult. I don’t know where to begin,” he started, voice calm, but fingers uncertain in Queen’s hands.  
“Neither do I. Believe it or not, I’ve never had to had this conversation.”  
Oliver took the bat-cowl that Bruce threw on the coffee table, and ran his fingers along its edges. He was always a tactile learner.  
“Want a drink?”  
“I’d rather have a clear head right now. So where do we start.”  
Oliver produced a quarter from a pocket of his suite and started playing with it. He picked up this habit not so long ago, but found it soothing in time when he needed to concentrate and think. Focus your body on a simple repetitive task and a mind can wander. Heads, tails, heads, tails, tails, heads…  
“Mother always said, “If you don’t know where to start, start at the beginning.”  
“Wise woman,” Bruce, unlike his lover, was a visual; he had to look at something to concentrate on it or on something else. And so he looked and the quarter and Oliver’s clever fingers turning it.  
Heads, tails, heads, tails, tails, heads…  
“Mine was like that too. If you want the very beginning, then it all started one night at The Monarch theatre…”  
Heads, tails, heads, tails, tails, heads…  
“Alfred has been my family.”  
Heads, tails, heads, tails, tails, heads…  
“I had to… no, I decided to get away from Gotham.”  
Heads, tails, heads, tails, tails, heads…  
“Ra’s al Ghul…”  
Heads, tails, heads, tails, tails, heads…  
“…and so that’s how I’ve met Selina, although I didn’t know her name at the time.”  
Heads, tails, heads, tails, tails, heads…  
“…a narrow escape, left me quite a few bruises and a scar on the chest, but the Penguin had to count me in his plans from that point on.”  
Heads, tails, heads, tails, tails, heads…  
“Wait till I tell you about Joker, that’s whole another chapter.”  
Heads, tails, heads, tails, tails, heads…  
“And that’s pretty much it,” Bruce finally raised his eyes from the coin and squinted a bit – it was already morning. His throat was perched from talking for so long, but he hesitated to get up and spook the comforting silence. “Now you know more about me than everyone. From the start.”  
He fell silent, and Ollie kept playing with the coin. How difficult it must have been to lay it all down, but Bruce came through. A warm feeling started creeping up from somewhere inside and he had to fight the urge to smile.  
How identical they turned out to be! Tragedies that led to the same way of dealing with trauma, the same conclusions and solutions in everything, starting with general modus operandi. It’s unsurprising, really: they knew before they were brought up in similar circles, it had to leave a similar impact. Still, Oliver felt like that is something he’ll have to reflect on some time in the future.  
For now, he poured himself and Bruce a cup of water, sat back on the couch and closed his eyes, trying to help the words flow. It didn’t help much, so he did what he often did before – lied down and used Bruce’s thigh as a pillow. As the initial tension passed after Batman’s confession, they were both sliding right back into being relaxed and comfortable around one another.  
“I doubt you’ve heard about Oliver Queen before my disappearance,” Oliver’s eyes were closed, and Wayne started to gently stroke his shoulder on reflex. “But let me tell you a little bit about him. You wouldn’t have liked the guy…”  
The words he was so worried wouldn’t get out, were now pouring. Everything, from the boat, to Lian Yu, back to Star; from the time he was just called the Hood. How he met Felicity and how she became his partner, or, rather, accomplice. How he had to fight for Queen Consolidated in both persons. How hard it is to keep all of this from what little family he has left.  
When he finished and opened his eyes, Bruce was looking at him with understanding Oliver never hoped to see. He sat up straight.  
“This feels… you know, I can’t say how exactly, but I’m glad we spoke of this. Keeping this secret was simple, but not easy.”  
“So you think this can work? We’re good?” Bruce was a bit surprised. He somehow convinced himself that this conversation would mean the end of it. Who would want a relationship after that big of a lie?  
“I don't need to think anything,” Arrow answered, gently massaging the back of Bruce's hand with his thumb. “It already works. And it works wonderfully; it’s long since I’ve been this happy.”  
“What we have can’t stay the same. Now’s the cat out of the bag, I want to be kept in the loop. Promise, I won’t interfere unless you ask, but still.”  
“Plus, when you need my help…”  
“I won’t,” Bruce interrupted. “I’m Batman.”  
“When you need my help,” Arrow continued, with that mischievous spark lighting again. “I’ll be there. Honestly, I’m thinking there’s long talk ahead about how we handle our double lives from now on, but honestly, after this night and considering it’s ten in the morning, I’d rather… What the hell are you doing?”  
While he was talking, Wayne’s nimble fingers undid a zip on his jacket and started to work their way around the buttons.  
“What does it look like I’m doing?” he grinned. “You see, I’m sitting here after a night of hard work and you are right here so seductively…”  
“How is this seductive?” Oliver, despite a tone of surprise, helped Bruce with buttons.  
“To me, you’re always seductive, no matter the pose. Ollie, I don’t think I’ve ever wanted you like I want you now.”  
“Cheeky bastard. How does your suit come off?”  
“Do you want it to?”  
“Well, not entirely, but some of it, yes.”  
“I’m afraid, Mister Queen,” Batman finished with his jacket and put his hands on Ollie’s ass with enough force, that had it been anyone else, they’d be hurt. Ollie just bit his lip in anticipation. “That until you figure that out, you’re all mine.”  
The next morning Bruce woke up sore, but not sorry. The venture has been a success, not to mention what came next. Opening up felt like a mountain was suddenly lifted from his shoulders. And Oliver… His secret surprised Bruce, it was weird and strange, but not in a bad way – in a new and unexplored way. He felt so light right now, he could sing! Bruce turned to the right and stretched his hand to grab Ollie, hug him tight, kiss him and maybe even bite him just enough to wake – but the bed was empty.  
He got up, dressed and began looking. To his surprise, he found Ollie in the kitchen, busying around the stove is his mossy green bathrobe.  
“I can hear your jaw drop,” he said, taking one pan off the stove and replacing it with another. “What?”  
“I just had no idea you can cook,” Bruce replied, putting his hands around him. Himself, he could maybe fry an egg. Maybe. “But don’t you have staff?”  
“I’m not a plant, Bruce,” Green Arrow smiled. “I wouldn’t have survived on Lian Yu without learning how to thermally prepare something. And the cook doesn’t live here, she comes a bit later.”  
Batman did not answer. He took a step back, leaned on the wall and smiled.  
“Got to ask,” Ollie broke the silence. “You’re usually not so cheery. Even if you’re not brooding, which is never, you don’t grin so much.”  
“It’s called a smile, dipshit,” Bruce laughed. “At look who’s talking about brooding.”  
“So what’s the deal?”  
“The deal is, Ollie, that I’m happy,” Bruce stretched and paused. “And I love you.”  
He realized what he said only when Oliver suddenly stumbled mid-movement and sent the pan dancing around the table, spewing hot oil around. He looked at it, looked at Bruce, cursed under his breath and reached for something to clean up the mess, but then decided it could wait. Meanwhile, Bruce’s heart was on standstill, or so it felt. It took all of his training to hide the face journey of fear, desperation, regret and acceptance, before he could hear Oliver try to say something.  
“What?”  
“Me too,” said archer quietly.  
“I didn’t hear you, speak louder,” he didn’t even try to hide excitement on his face.  
“Me too,” Oliver repeated, suddenly beginning to blush and turning away to see to the food. Bruce knew that if he commented on that, Ollie would probably break up with him. Or shoot him. Or both. “I love you too. Now eat you breakfast.”  
“Why are pancakes bat-shaped?” Bruce finally looked at the plate.  
“I may or may not have ordered forms online early in the morning. Will you eat or not?”


	4. Having fun, aren't we?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Is it getting hotter in here, or is it just me?

Everything spiraled up after that night.  
Looking backwards, they could see their secrets used to be an invisible sheet of glass between the two. Until it shattered, both thought everything was perfect, or, at least, as good as it can be. But honesty opened a whole new lever or intimacy.  
Bruce particularly enjoyed training together. They joined each other for the gym sessions before, but that was mostly for show. Now they really put in effort and not only got better at their own game, but also learned new things.  
Ollie, finally meeting someone who could best him in hand-to-hand combat, jumped at the opportunity. He exhausted Bruce on the mat, making him spar again and again until finally he felt he could hold his ground against Batman. Wayne scoffed and rolled his eyes, but to himself admitted that in real fight Green Arrow would now be even more of a challenge. Their training, although similar, wasn’t identical and Bruce found himself discovering a few tricks he had no idea could work.  
He learned as well as taught. Much as it pained him to admit it, Ollie was better at shooting and throwing anything, even his batarangs. He showed Bruce how to make them fly farther and with more accuracy, even taught him how to ricochet them without help of electronics. He also tried to teach him archery, but gave that up after a while – Bruce was no better with the bow than he was with the frying pan.  
They also worked on their tech together, although that was mostly Batman. Having been trained with next to no technology, Ollie only used bare minimum of it, instead preferring to rely on clever tactics, traps, stealth and his body’s strength and agility. He did not say no to a new arrowheads Bruce made, which could entangle the target or cover them in ice – courtesy of Mr. Freeze’s cold gun.  
The decision to keep out of each other’s hair was a sound one: both were busy enough with their own cities. That said, on the rare occasions when they needed to team up, it was challenging, but overall great. Neither was big on cooperating and compromising; thankfully, they mostly reasoned along similar lines. Having someone watching your back was difficult to get used to, but paid out every single time. Archer discovered, that during high-risk missions having Bruce as a backup “just in case” took a lot of stress off.  
Their social life changed too. Confiding their secret in each other was liberating and they felt so happy, hiding that happiness from the world was impossible, to Oliver, anyway. Bruce could hide anything and everything in him forever, but even he enjoyed their public appearances together. As the initial fuss has blown over, Ollie took him everywhere – premiers, parties, gallery openings, you name it. After a while, Bruce got so used to it, he felt weird when Ollie couldn’t make it.  
“Next week I’m taking you to the beach,” Ollie commented, watching Bruce strip and get into bed. “You look like a vampire. A vampire with a vitamin D deficiency.”  
“Over my dead body,” Bruce replied, picking up a book and watching Oliver rest his head on his chest. “I’m aristocratically pale and it’s a part of my charm.”  
Needless to say, in a week they were both lying under the huge umbrella in a remote spot near Star City Bay – Gotham’s waters were too dirty. Archer took his sweet time as he rubbed sunscreen in his boyfriend.  
“Ollie,” Bruce called, lying on his stomach, with Oliver over him, massaging his back. “Stop doing the thing with your legs. And hands. It’s getting very uncomfortable to lie like that.”  
“Then flip over,” Ollie suggested. “I still need to rub some on your chest.”  
“Then you’ll be uncomfortable.”  
“Bruce,” he smiled, turning him around forcefully. “In all the time that you’ve known me, have I ever been uncomfortable on top?”  
Only the knowing how exposed they were in this place stopped Ollie from showing exactly how comfortable he felt.  
The liberation concerned their intimate life as well. They now felt at ease talking about what they want and how. Bruce, for one, discovered his love of spanking. Well, he always knew he liked it, and so did Oliver, but he never realized how much.  
“So Bruce,” Ollie whispered as they were lying together on his bed. “You ask me to slap you almost every time. What would you say if I did an entire spanking session? You know, full on? Would you like that?”  
The lights were out, but he could feel Bruce’s face turning red and smiled to himself. He knew Batman only let his face betray him when he felt secure.  
“You… mean… is that what you’d like?” Exploring kinks wasn’t something Bruce seriously considered at that point. He realized it’d be a healthy thing to do, but each time he wanted to talk about it, all words just went away. As Bruce later figured out (because over-analyzing is a hobby in itself), it was in part because Oliver’s raw, seemingly unquenchable desire flattered him. He may be used to being wanted, but not with such passion, care and, well, love. Against all rationale, he was afraid too much honesty might scare archer away and he will lose all that.  
“Nuh-uh,” Ollie shacked his head. “That’s not about me, I’m happy either way. I’m asking if it would make you happy… er.”  
“I don’t… not… you… right now?” Bruce finally managed halfway coherent sentence.  
“Slow down,” Oliver laughed. “I can feel you like the idea. Or, rather, my thigh can, but I’m tired. Plus, I want to think about all the details.”  
That he did. Next time they ended up in the bedroom everything went normally at first. Oliver undressed him, as he often did, but himself stayed only in his pants. It was a power move, as Bruce soon realized – being naked and exposed in front of a man who controls exactly how exposed you are. Oliver started with gentle foreplay, only to sharpen the moment when his words and moves became firm and commanding. Bruce was bent over the edge of the bed and…  
“Count!” Ollie ordered in deep voice that sounded like velvet felt. “Loud and clear!”  
“One! Two! Harder! Three!” he obeyed, as heavy hand landed on his rear. It hurt, but it wasn’t that kind of pain. Not like what he usually dealt with. It felt like caress in comparison. In a way, it was. He couldn’t tell what aroused him more – the spanking, his own submissiveness or the fact that his lover went so far out of his way for a stupid kink, but the more he thought about, the weaker his knees felt. If he wasn’t already standing on them…  
“Nineteen! Harder! Twenty!”  
“That’s enough!” Oliver pushed him down and sat on the bed, Bruce kneeling between his legs. He raised Bruce’s chin with his fingers, gently ran them along the jawline, then through the hair. The room was rather chilly, but Wayne couldn’t feel it, he was giving off heat in waves. His ass was stinging a bit, the carpet was making his knees itch and on top of it, legs were starting to grow numb, but he wouldn’t change it for anything. His erect cock begged for relief, but Bruce wouldn’t dare, not without permission. Judging by Oliver’s smug smile, he wasn’t nearly done.  
Without breaking eye contact, Bruce tried to lower his head to bury it in his lover’s crotch, tried to hint that he was on edge, but Ollie knew it well. He stopped him halfway, firmly, almost painfully grabbing Bruce’s hair and pulled him up.  
“Please,” Bruce panted heavily. “Please, let me…”  
“Excited, are we?”  
When things got rough in bed, Batman loved a bit of verbal abuse. As long as it was a game, he could happily be a little bitch or a greedy cocksucker, but, for some reason, that never sat well with Oliver. He didn’t enjoy being at either end of verbal play, so he had to find other ways to assert dominance.  
The man leaned forward a bit, bringing Bruce’s ear close to his lips and, in his deepest voice, started whispering what he might do. He went on and on, letting his fantasy go wild, with what sounded as threats as much as promises, but the longer he talked, the harder it was for Bruce to listen. He wanted all of it right now. He tried to shift his focus on something else, but the mind kept going back to the soft lips near his ear, to the strong hand keeping him in place and to the thing his imagination was painting over and over. Bruce whimpered a bit.  
Oliver let out a chuckle, obviously pleased with himself. “The things I’m going to do to you, love…”  
“Please, more!..” Bruce’s dark eyes glistened in the dim light, he was drunk with lust. He begged for more, because he knew Ollie wanted him to, he read it in his eyes, his impending pose and he knew his lover will not stoop to asking. “Anything you want, please… anything you want, but give it to me now, please!”  
“Careful what you wish for, love,” his lover grinned, producing a gag from his pocket and securing it over billionaire’s mouth. “You just might get it.”  
Bruce tried to agree, but the gag only let out unintelligible mumbling.  
“Come here,” he continued. “On my lap.”  
Bruce made an attempt, but he was only able to wriggle in the bondage. After getting as close as he could, Green Arrow had to help him. Lying like that, across his muscular legs, felt demeaning, but also comforting, and it’s that conflict of feeling that drove Bruce up a wall even more.  
He tried to count anyway, but quickly gave up – thoughts scattered away no matter how hard he tried to concentrate. Oliver took his sweet time, enjoying Bruce’s helplessness, alternating spanking and groping, before taking a long pause. Man started to shiver and wiggle a bit, waiting for what Arrow would think of next.  
And then it was over. The next touch Oliver gave him was gentle and careful, albeit it still hurt. Bruce turned around, and the first thing he saw was Ollie’s face – stubbly, with that same spark in the eyes, hopeful that he liked it, and with a smile that could thaw the ice caps.  
Wayne was overwhelmed by desire. He all but lunged forward, picking Ollie up and pinning to the bed and covering him in kisses. He could barely wait for the pants to come off – and Oliver taunted him, taking his time with each button and pretending to struggle with tight fabric.  
Once they were done, it felt like a blanket was pulled down from his mind. Panting heavily, they both crushed onto the mattress, suddenly able to think clear. Ollie reached to the nightstand, took a small glass bottle and poured its contents onto his palm. A strong scent of peppermint filled the room.  
“Turn around,” he said, this time asking, rather than commanding. “The lotion will help.”  
“I’m pretty sure I can handle a little spanking without it,” Bruce tried to dismiss the effort. “I’ve been through much worse, remember? Besides, you weren’t even at half strength.”  
“Do you enjoy provoking me?” Ollie chuckled. “You’ll thank me tomorrow… er, later today when you have to sit through the press conference with a straight face. Come on, flip over.”  
Bruce reluctantly complied. Reluctantly, because he knew his boyfriend was right and disliked how often that happened. But the fact the Ollie remembered about a stupid meeting was sweet. The lotion felt cold and took care of the burning sensation so he could finally relax.  
“You took quite some time before letting me go at the end,” Bruce remembered. “What were you thinking of doing?”  
“Eh, I had a few ideas, mostly I wanted to play around a bit more, but then I didn’t want to overdo it. Did you like it?”  
“Are you kidding me?” Batman turned on his side, leaning on the elbow. “That was the brightest orgasm I’ve had in my life! But I think you could’ve drawn it out a bit more.”  
Oliver smiled, then chuckled, then burst into a loud laughter. “You’re a glutton for punishment! That was enough for the first time! Don’t you worry, love, we’ve a lot of nights ahead. There’s still a lot we haven’t tried. I hear wax is fun.”  
“M-hm.”  
They laid is silence for a bit, trading gentle kisses.  
“So,” he said after some time. “What’s your thing?”  
“Thing?”  
“You know, what I’m talking about,” Bruce answered somewhat crossly and nodded towards the gag lying on the floor. “Turns out this is my meat and drink. What’s yours?”  
“Er… Nothing comes to mind,” Oliver said after some thought. “I don’t think I have a thing.”  
“Bullshit,” Bruce rolled over so that he was lying on top of Green Arrow. “Everyone has a thing. I know you love it when I pin you down like this. There must be more. Are you into roleplay?”  
“Definitely,” Bruce’s body felt like a hydraulic press and talking too much was challenging, but Oliver still managed to leave some breath for sass. “Let’s play vigilante and vigilante. You could dress up as a giant bat – Oh wait. By the way, are you sure you’re not a furry?”  
“I don’t even want to know what that word means,” Bruce warned him. “But touché.”  
“I’m not sure what to tell you,” Oliver released himself and sat up. “I’ve tried a lot of stuff and most of it was okay. To be frank, it never mattered what I’m doing as long as I enjoy who I’m doing it with.”  
“Makes sense,” Bruce had to agree. “But I still think you’re not telling me something. I’ll just have to figure it out.”  
“Whatever floats your boat, love,” he agreed.  
“Hey, I have one more question,” Bruce suddenly remembered something that was bugging him for some time. “Why are all the beds in your house so small?”  
“Oh, it’s dad’s idea of a joke,” Ollie rolled his eyes. “They’re all… Queen Size.”  
“Ugh!”


End file.
